


the life she made (without you)

by sammakku



Category: Steel Ball Run, jojolion, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Alternate timeline Giorno is Diego and Hot Pants' child, F/M, Gen, Hot Pants lives, JJBA, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run Spoilers, MAJOR STEEL BALL RUN SPOILERS, Major character death - Freeform, Minor bruabba, Post-JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run, SBR - Freeform, dinopants, gore tw, minor appearance from alternate Narancia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammakku/pseuds/sammakku
Summary: The seasons change, time goes on, and she's still here, without you.Hot Pants survives the train incident.
Relationships: Diego Brando/Hot Pants, Johnny Joestar & Hot Pants
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	the life she made (without you)

**Author's Note:**

> !!!MAJOR SBR SPOILERS!!!!

_I've had a few little love affairs_

_They didn't last very long and they've been pretty scarce_

_I used to think I was sensible_

_It makes the truth even more incomprehensible_

_'Cause everything is new_

_And everything is you_

_And all I've learned has overturned_

_What can I do_

\--- 

**_Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum._ **

Was that the train? Or the sound of her beating heart? 

**_Bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum._ **

The line between the two was getting blurred. Her ears were blown out, her skin was irritated, was that blood in her mouth? She was in terrible shape. 

Her mind raced like a horse that had broken free of its rider; she couldn't focus, her vision was blurred. 

**_Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum._ **

That wasn't the train, it was long gone now, but she needed to move. She had to move-- she couldn't just stay on the tracks. 

Pushing herself up was _hellish;_ her arms felt like they could shatter if too much pressure was put on them; her legs-- well, she couldn't _feel_ her legs. She couldn't feel half her body; all she felt was a pulsating, never-ending pain. 

Her hands began to grip the ground, nails digging deep and filling with sand and dirt. She clawed her way off the tracks. Her head bobbed to look up; the world looked as though overlapping, obscured, and disturbed, but she could still make it out: that blue and yellow and red blob on the tracks ahead of her... that was him, wasn't it? 

She had to get over there. He needed her. He was calling out to her. 

The sand was hot, yet she could tell the sun was setting. It would be freezing in no time. She had to get over there. 

It took what felt like hours, but could have been minutes. The smell over here was horrid; it reminded her of the catacombs under the church, or the sickness in the hospital, or the decaying meat at the bottom of the icebox.

It smelled of death. 

Her fingertips grazed his chest. This cavity was hollow and cold now; when she pressed down, a small, ghostly wheeze slipped from his lips. 

Her body heaved up, and her head came to rest on top of him gently. She listened for his heartbeat and found none. Her eyes, welling up with tears, rolled to the night sky. The stars were missing. 

God was missing. 

Her God was gone. Her life had been devoted, and everything she had was given to Him; she only came here for Him, to find the missing pieces of His son and to bring them back safely, but in return, she got... nothing. 

Nothing at all.

She was injured. She was going deaf and slowly dying at the same time. The parts were taken. The only man she ever loved was dead, in her arms, split in half by a train driven by a mad man. 

Her God would have never let this happen; her God was dead, too, wasn't he? 

Her eyes were getting so heavy. The iron taste in her mouth was so disgusting, so prominent. She wanted to sleep here for a little bit... he wouldn't mind that, would he? No, he just wanted her here with him.

\--

She couldn't hear much of anything, but from what she _could_ deduct from the doctor, she wouldn't be able to hear clearly for at least a little while... at worse, for the rest of her life; her head had been smashed pretty well, and her legs were broken... worse of all... she was... 

...

She couldn't go back to the Vatican like this; she couldn't even go home to her mother and father. Her fellow sisters would reject her, her parents would disown her... Tears flowed uncontrollably; not for any lost home, but a lost life. He had driven her to sacrilege, then gotten himself killed, and abandoned her with nobody but herself and his... illicit progeny. She felt betrayed, angry... alone. 

It wasn't her choice to be feeling this way, to be in this situation. She never wanted to fall in love, and so she never sought it out. Yet, she believed God lead her to him in the first place. Their meeting was not by choice or chance, but by fate. This babe was a destiny etched into her stone of life long ago. 

But it still felt as though she was being punished by a trickster God who didn't truly care for her; a thankless lord who only wanted to see her and her child suffer. 

She wasn't going to let Him stop her, or any God for that matter. 

She wasn't going back to any convent, or home she once knew. 

She had to start over again, here, in America. 

"Ah, you're awake?" A nurse had entered; her voice was so muffled, she almost didn't register it. But knowing of her condition, the nurse tapped her shoulder too. She swiveled her eyes to look back at her. 

The nurse was wetting a cloth in a small dish, "How are you feeling, hun?" Though her voice was dampened, her sweetness was still evident, "Are you hungry?"

She didn't answer, instead simply turning on her back and staring up at the nurse with a baffled expression. She studied her features, from her tan skin to the small wrinkles in her eyes, and her long black hair that was pulled neatly back in a ponytail with a woven band she had never seen before. Around her neck, she wore a golden band with a string looped through. The band was engraved, but she couldn't tell what it said. 

"...Can you understand me?" The woman asked, head tilting. Her eyes flickered to the woman's lips as she watched closely how they moved, and she nodded, "Oh, good... the doctor said you may be able to still hear a little bit. Can you tell me your name?" 

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she hesitated. She couldn't say the name she had been using for months; she needed to escape... 

"H...Haley," She finally croaked out, "Haley Patrica... Brando. My friends call me HP." 

"Is it Miss, or Mrs?" The woman asked as she placed the cloth over the bandages on HP's legs, "...if you don't mind me asking, was that man your-"

"Please," HP interrupted suddenly, eyes falling shut. She turned her head away, "It's... it's Haley or HP. Nothing else." 

The woman looked at HP for a long moment; she was silent, but her gaze was all-knowing. She continued her work in further silence, at least until HP opened her eyes again. 

"...I know who you are. I know who you both are," The woman whispered. HP began to sit up suddenly, fist-clenching around Cream Starter as it manifested in her palm. 

The woman was quicker, however, and her hand quickly landed on HP's chest, stopping her from getting closer. 

"Stop. Don't even try to use that one me," She leaned closer, taking the can from HP and tossing it across the room, "I'm here to get you out. Valentine _will_ come back for you and your child if he finds out you're alive." 

"Who are you," HP demanded, grabbing hold of the woman's wrist now, "How do you know about all of this?"

"No matter, not right now," The woman insisted, "My name is Tiva. I can take you somewhere where you will both be safe. I have a homestead up in Washington-- you can travel there with my family and stay so long as you contribute. By the time we get there your baby will be born--" 

"Yes," HP breathed out before Tiva was even finished, "Please. I need somewhere to stay. I need to start again." 

Tiva moved her hand from HP's chest, and continued to clean her up with her cloth, "Is there any business you need to take care of? We'll be leaving in only a week."

"No," HP sighed. She laid back in the bed, head rolling to gaze out the window. Her hand landed on her stomach, "I'm ready." 

\--- 

Recovery wasn't easy for HP; it was only made harder by the fact she was pregnant. Luckily, miraculously, her injuries proved to be mild enough that she could be released within the week, just as she planned. 

On that Friday she arrived at Tiva's home and acquainted herself with Tiva's son and son-in-law, and their young daughters and infant son. They all shared dinner and swapped stories for hours as they packed up the little cottage. Through it all, HP couldn't bring herself to smile once. 

They left early in the morning, and for the next month and a half, they traveled by foot towards their new promise land. HP spent most of her time in the cart with the younger children; her injuries were too severe to risk anything else happening, and she was pregnant after all. 

So, HP stayed in the carriage, taking care of the baby and watching the daughters play together. It was practice, in a way, but HP couldn't help but feel numb during all of it. Sure, she smiled at the children when they grinned up at her and showed them love like a nursemaid would, but every time she found herself thinking of the future, thinking in fear of what her life was going to be like with her baby... without him. 

It was a small relief when they arrived at the homestead finally, and an even greater one when both family cottages were ut up within the week. 

HP's was smaller, but it was just enough for her and the baby; it had two rooms on the bottom, one for the kitchen, living room and dining room, and another for her bedroom. Upstairs was a small loft room, just big enough for a child to grow in. There was also a washroom just off the kitchen, as well as a shed for meat. She had done her best to dress it up with cheap things from the local town, and Tiva's son-in-law taught her how to make her own furniture. 

She was tasked with taking care of her own portion of the land, and of raising some livestock and tending to part of the farm with Tiva's family. It wasn't hard work; in fact, it was rather comfortable. She always imagined herself raising chickens someday, as stupid as it seemed. 

The baby came within a few weeks of HP getting settled; It was a boy of a healthy size and weight, with no problems (besides a few pointed teeth, and sharp nails). His eyes were a rich purple, and his hair a golden blonde. He took his father's name. 

\---

The first few years weren't the easiest; HP would quickly find motherhood rewarding, but not the easiest thing on Earth. Regardless, she had been through much worse, and wouldn't give her son up for the world. 

By the time he was five he spoke fluent English and Italian and knew some Latin thanks to the bible no less. He was a curious thing and had somehow inherited aspects of his father's stand. HP saw it every day, with how the boy had an unsustainable appetite, loved to chase the poor farm animals, and often growled when he didn't get what he wanted. His teeth were sharp, and he was growing a little tail that would pop out when he got too excited or angry, just like his father. 

She saw too much of him in their son, and it broke her heart. So, she called him her Gioia; her joy; her Gio. 

Young Gio had grown close with Tiva's grandson, Nara; the two of them spent almost every second of every day together; after all, they were only a year apart, they related on every level. Often, the two would get caught getting into some sort of trouble, like playing in the mud or the garden; they spent every second they could together. 

As the area filled up with more homesteaders, and the town grew in size and strength, and HP eventually found herself integrating into the little community again. She still attended church on Sundays; as much as her faith had died, she wanted to try and rekindle it, and make sure Gioia grew up with faith at all. It certainly was still difficult at times, with Gio being so curious about the world, he often asked things like "If God is so kind, why did he take daddy?". HP would find herself unable to answer every time; the boy was too smart for his good. Still, faith in any God helped calm her soul and kept her son pure. 

Nonetheless, HP and her son had established themselves in their little town. They knew everyone and everything there was for miles around. New things weren't common, and they certainly came as a shock. 

On a summer afternoon, while Gio and Nara played in the field, a new thing arrived at the homestead. A man Gio didn't recognize rode up on a pretty, white horse; he held a small girl in front of him, and behind them trailed the most beautiful brown horse Gio had ever seen. The horse's mane was white, and her eyes were so dark. Gio could tell she had been through a lot. 

Nara and Gio did what they always had to when someone new arrived; they hurried back up to the homestead, stopping to speak to HP in the garden first.

"Mama!" Gio shouted, leaning against his mother's back as she dug up the harvest, "Mama! I have to tell you something!" 

"Tell me, then," HP hummed, inspecting each tomato she picked off the vine closely, "Gioia, you know I hate it when you yell without reason."

Gio let out a whine, looking up at Nara as he rocked against his mother's back, "It's not withou'ta reason mama!" He whined, "A man is comin'! And he's got a pretty horsie with him! 'nd a little girl!" 

A chill ran up HP's spine as she paused in her gardening; her neck craned and head turned to look down the path, at the aforementioned man and horses as they finally arrived. Her small hopes were confirmed, yet so were her fears. 

Scooping Gio up into her arms, she quietly dismissed Nara to his parents. She softly hushed her son's many questions and approached the man as he climbed down from his horse. He put half of his weight on the stead, retrieving a cane from her satchel which he then used to stay up. 

"Joestar," HP called, keeping some distance still. Her eyes flickered to the brown horse behind his own, "How did you find me."

"That's not the greeting I was expecting," the younger ex-jockey snorted. He rubbed his horse's neck for a moment, then lifted the little girl off the horse, "Good afternoon to you too, Hot Pants." 

Her eyes slipped closed for a moment, her entire body tensing at the old alias, "It's not _Hot Pants_ anymore. It's Haley. Or HP. _How did you find me-_ " 

"That's not even your real name is it?" Johnny stepped forwards, holding the child on his hip. 

HP grimaced and glared. 

"...Sorry." His throat cleared, "I always knew you were here. Tiva is an old family friend. Her son, Bruno, was sponsored by my father to attend the same private school as my brother-- he and Nicholas were close friends up until his death." 

Johnny paused, eyes landing on Gioia; the little boy hid his face from the strange man, who only gave a small smile, "...when you were found, you were out for days. I received a telegram from Tiva about you, and I begged her to take care of you. I've known about you being here since you arrived 5 years ago." 

HP looked away; it all made sense, in the end. As annoyed as she always felt with Johnny, deep down he had kindness in him that was unmatched by any other. 

Softly, Johnny asked, "Tell me his name?" 

"Diego," HP replied, shifting so Gio would hopefully show his face again, "But we call him Gioia. It means joy." 

Johnny tilted his head just slightly, "He looks just like him, doesn't he?"

HP nodded. She shifted again as Gio made eye contact with the little girl in Johnny's arms, "...oh, Joestar, is that...?"

"My daughter," Johnny chuckled as he adjusted her on his hip, "Mary. She's beautiful, isn't she?" He tickled the little girl, who let out a happy laugh. 

"Really." HP agreed. She tried to keep her focus on the two, but her eyes drifted to the second horse once again. Without thinking really, she placed Gio on the ground and wandered her way over to the horse.

This was her. This was Silver Bullet; it was surprising to see her still alive and well, in all honesty; she wasn't that old, but she didn't have her old owner to take care of her anymore either. Hesitantly, she reached out, and when the horse didn't flinch, she began to pet her gently. 

"Hello, Silver," HP whispered, "How long has it been?" The horse huffed at her, "I missed you too." 

"Mama?" Gioia called, walking up beside his mother and grabbing onto part of her poncho, "Who's horsie is that? Is she ours?"

"She is now," Johnny butted back in, "I've been taking care of her and Valkyrie since... since the race ended." Mary was put back down on the ground, and Johnny turned to face the Brandos, "But I know he wouldn't want _me_ to keep her." 

Tears began to fight for the right to drift down HP's cheeks. Her eyes fluttered, and her hand landed on her son's back gently. 

"Mama?" Gio piped up again, "Is this daddy's horsie? The one he raced with?"

Gently, HP picked her son back up again, "It is. Would you like to go for a ride on her?" 

Gio nodded, reaching out in the same hesitant yet confident way his mother had not even moments earlier. His hand made contact with the horse's mane, and for the first time in five years, Hot Pants felt at peace. 


End file.
